Better
by blueowls
Summary: Emma, Brittany/Santana. /Sometimes Emma cringes, wondering just how terrible a counselor she is if she takes advice from students./


**Author Note: **Mention of a rumor about Emma in the second season.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Better**

Emma almost doesn't recognize Santana because she's wearing jeans and a baggy McKinley High sweatshirt. Seeing the girl out of a Cheerio uniform and with her hair down is something she's only witnessed during a few glee competitions, and the thing that really gives Santana away is the way she stands with one hip cocked and a hand on her waist, sighing loudly in impatience as the old lady one customer in front of her slowly and methodically counts out nine dollars and seventy-two cents in change.

The cashier looks on, a glazed look in his eyes, and Emma can tell they're going to be here a while. She's almost afraid to ask herself why Santana's at a Walgreens at eleven at night on a Saturday, and for her own benefit decides not to ask or look at whatever Santana's purchasing. It's not that hard. The girl's waiting in line in front of her, and her foot taps against the floor impatiently, obviously eager to pay and leave.

But her plan to quietly avoid Santana's notice and focus on the gossip magazines lined up along the register is foiled once Brittany ambles past her, clutching a gallon of Rocky Road ice cream and slipping in line beside Santana. Emma waits, holding her breath and hoping Brittany hasn't noticed her, but the girl turns around after a moment's pause, eyes narrowed in concentration like she's trying hard to remember something before she spots her.

"Hi, Ms. Pillsbury!" Brittany says loudly, and Emma cringes as Santana looks over her shoulder and sees her. Emma's not _scared_ of Santana, but the Cheerio is intimidating, and Santana juggles a tube of cookie dough in one hand as her eyes flick to the heavy-duty hand sanitizer dispenser Emma's holding.

"Really?" Santana drawls, and Emma swallows nervously as Brittany giggles, facing her.

"I ran out," she explains meekly, and Santana shrugs carelessly before facing forward again. Emma realizes it was probably a rhetorical question and wishes that Brittany hadn't been kind enough to try to talk to her.

"Why didn't you ask Mr. Schuester to get it for you?" Brittany asks, oblivious to the sharp sigh from Santana that follows, and Emma shifts the bottle uncomfortably in her hands.

"I'm not sure what it is exactly that you're trying to say," Emma admits, and Brittany looks over her shoulder to Santana, who continues to stare straight ahead and offers no clarification, before looking back at Emma and frowning.

"I thought you two lived together."

Emma sees Santana shakes her head and mutter, "Oh my God, Britt," before grabbing her wrist and trying to get Brittany to turn around. Brittany does, but she pulls her arm out of Santana's grasp and slides her hand into Santana's, who doesn't pull away like Emma expects her to, and Brittany peers over her shoulder to continue the conversation, clutching her ice cream in one hand.

"Aren't you and Mr. Schue dating?" she asks a bit more quietly, and Santana turns her head to look at her again, too. Emma feels herself flush and nervously clears her throat with a small cough.

"Sue gave me some very good advice," Emma says, hoping this will end Brittany's questions. "We're not seeing each other any more."

"Oh," Brittany breathes out softly, and for all her air of disinterest, Santana snorts as the old lady pays, takes her bag, and leaves, the line finally inching forward one more person.

"About time you dumped him," Santana says loudly, and Emma hunches her shoulders, trying to make herself disappear as Brittany nods in agreement with Santana. Both girls fall quiet and face forward again, and Emma almost begins to celebrate being in the clear before Santana speaks up again, looking over her shoulder at her.

"The group worked better when you were there," Santana says, meeting her eyes with purpose, and Emma has to think for a second until she understands what Santana's referring to.

"But I was only there for sectionals," Emma counters dismissively, hugging the dispenser of hand sanitizer closer to herself. Brittany bends down to place her tub of ice cream on the floor, jamming her free hand in the pocket of her jeans and shivering, and Santana shrugs again like she doesn't care.

"Yeah, well, we won sectionals, didn't we?"

Brittany nods in agreement, sliding closer to Santana, and Emma watches in fascination as Santana lets go of her friend's hand, only to snake an arm around Brittany's waist and pull her close enough to stand hip pressed to hip. Emma doesn't miss the adoring smile on Brittany's face before she frowns, biting her bottom lip. "We're going to get crushed at regionals, but at least we have Cheerios to fall back on."

"Don't let coach hear you say that," Santana whispers quickly, and Emma watches as they both look furtively over their shoulders and around the store, eyes narrowed. It would be amusing if they didn't look so honestly terrified that Sue might pop up out of nowhere and hear them. "Glee is supposed to come second."

"Oh. Right."

"You deserve better," Santana says heatedly as the customer in front of them pays and leaves, and the cashier motions them forward. Santana sets her cookie dough down on the counter and lets go of Brittany before digging in her sweatshirt pocket for money, and Brittany picks her ice cream up off the floor, turning around once she's set it on the counter.

"You do," Brittany agrees, and the look in her eyes tells Emma to back away _now_, but there's someone with a cold sneezing behind her and she doesn't want to risk it. Brittany leans forward and, in the middle of a Lima convenience story, kisses her briefly, warm fingertips tilting her chin up as lips meets hers, before turning around and hooking an arm through Santana's, head tilting down onto the other girl's shoulder like nothing out of the ordinary just happened.

The two pay for their food and leave, and Santana waves briefly over her shoulder before they step out the automatic double doors. Emma's still rooted to the spot, eyes wide in shock, and only manages to step forward because the sick person behind her reaches out to nudge her forward and there's probably flu germs on his hands.

Emma pays for her hand sanitizer, and when she gets home, she slides the key into the lock, letting herself in and setting the dispenser down on the floor as she leans back against her closed door, looking around. The answering machine isn't blinking with missed messages from Ken, as it hasn't for months, and her bed is empty, no man waiting for her. The whole house is dark and lonely, and for a brief, absurd second, Emma envies Brittany and Santana, having someone to come home to even though they're both still so young.

Sue's advice wasn't out of charity—this, even Emma can see—but it actually does help. And sometimes Emma cringes, wondering just how terrible a counselor she is if she takes advice from students, but she tries to make herself believe that she really _does_ deserve better, and a week later, during her routine bi-monthly check-up, Emma gathers enough courage to smile shyly at her dentist.


End file.
